Panama

  Knock, knock on our motel door at 3:45 AM. It must be time to go dive. I opened the door to Tim Kohl who had just done an all nighter—flying and driving—to meet us in Santiago for a dive trip.  We had the food, water, gas, ice and boats for four of us and the mother boat had already departed with all the supplies. Where is Jesse, the 4th person that was coming with Tim? OH —- He forgot to check his passport for expiration, and when we arrived at the airport in LA, they would not allow him to board the plane for Panama. Major screw up!  It was a Big, costly lesson for everybody, but the wheels were in motion and the fish were waiting for the three of us.

    We had planned on a long trip for several days, and since pangas are too small to carry the necessary gas, water and ice, we tried something new for us. We rented a home made, forty foot long, wooden Noah’s ark for a mother boat that would carry our supplies, and provide a nice flat floor for sleeping at night. We could go dive all day in the panga, and return to the mother boat in the late afternoon for gas, food and a good night’s rest. It had a 50 HP motor, came with owner and his son as crew, and his wife as cook.

She had a one burner galley, that was way upscale from our normal canned food and sandwiches. It was spacious, as they had just carried a dozen, 1000 pound bulls from an island to the mainland in one trip. A couple of other things came free with the low budget live aboard, and we discovered those the first evening.

    After the long four hour panga ride to meet the mother boat, we still had time to do some scouting and diving before dark. It was wonderful to find good conditions, with delightful warm water and vis of 60-80 feet, but we found no sizable fish. Usually this place holds bohala or pargo but we found nothing and had to return to the mother boat without a fish for dinner. So it was rice and beans, and time to stretch out on the inviting, big flat floor for some much needed rest. I was almost asleep when I felt the first one crawl up my arm. A minute later I felt the sharp scratchy feet of another as he crawled up my neck and paused on my mouth and checked my nose with his feelers, before I flicked him off. Big Cockroaches. Then I felt another crawling through my hair. It would take too much force to smash him with my hand and I did not want the guts in my hair or face. Flick! For about an hour I tried to do a “mind over matter” and just let them crawl around on my skin, because I knew they would not hurt me. But then, trial #2 cut in, and it was all over. The owner started snoring with the intensity and roar of a raging bull and I knew it was time to move to the roof of the roach coach. For Tim and me, it was a fitful night as we rocked back and forth on the flat surface, trying to sleep and hoping we did not roll off into the water. Just two more minor, unexpected, surprises from our luxury live aboard, now the roach coach. A couple of bottles of boric acid powder and the roach problem would be solved, but that would have to be another trip.

    The next day we decided to try some high spots in the Hannibal Bank area and look for birds, bait or floating logs. The only thing we found floating were the buoy markers of the long lines, crisscrossing the area and indiscriminately killing off all the fish, turtles, dolphins, sharks for miles around. I don’t accept the idea that each boat owner has the right to put 2,000 plus baited hooks in the water every day to see how much he can kill and sell. Last year there were tons of dorado but now the long liners have killed off most.  However, with the long line passing over the high spot we decided to improvise and make it work for us.  About every 40 feet on the main long line there is a baited hook clipped to the main line and hanging down about 6 feet.  The first two hooks I checked already had Dorado. I unclipped them with the idea of using them as live flashers to attract other dorado. I would walk the dogs, drifting along behind the live dorado on the leashes, and if any others were in the area, Tim or Michelle would have a shot at them before they would be caught by the long lines. Several times curious dorado came around, but they usually stayed out of range of the guns. It was fun having the two, sometimes three, live dorado lead me around as they are beautiful to watch and they are food for a lot of big fish. Finally one nice bull dorado came too close to Tim and with a great shot, he beat Michelle to the punch.  As always the day flew by and it was time to make the long run back to the roach coach, but at least we had fresh fish for dinner. We had already decided it was best to sleep in the panga away from the mother boat and its critters. After a delicious fried dorado dinner, a fresh water rinse off and a peaceful night of sleep in the panga, we were starting to get into the groove.

    I would never have thought the roach coach would take us to robalo, but that is exactly what happened. Robalo is Spanish for snook and in all our diving we had never been lucky enough to shoot these unique fish. I know divers here that have shot robalo, but they are usually in dirty water areas that we don’t dive. But with the roach coach, we had to anchor in a new area for us. There were some unlikely places close by that we would never think of diving but we decided to check them out.

    It was an area of huge tumbled rocks on the bottom mixed with flat sandy areas. We saw a mix of fish cruising about 30 feet down and Michelle dropped to find some medium pargo with some fish she did not recognize. She lined up on a nice pargo and then decided to shoot one of the new fish thinking it might be corbina. BAM!  Perfect stone shot, right behind the head and high on the lateral line. As she brought the fish up I was stoked to see she had shot her first snook, recognizable by the unique shape and black line along the side. A medium size fish at 13 pounds, they are delicious and there were more swimming around below us. Both Tim and Michelle each shot one more robalo before they spooked and left the area. The roach coach had led us to Robalo land, and we already have plans to return in a few days to hunt these unusual fish again in our newly discovered frontier.

    We had all seen some nice size pargo in the rocky area but knowing how easy it is to loose expensive shafts and tips, we waited for the perfect shot. The best chance, is to catch one out in the open, away from the rocks,  not too deep, shoot for a spine shot, and then try to stop his run, with all your power, for at least ten seconds before you go up for air. Tim was successful with a great shot that put his 3/8 shaft right thru the fish just as he started to turn away. For a second the cable was hung on a rock, but Michelle cleared it while Tim pulled and then he brought the fish up. This was Tim’s first, but not last, powerful pargo of the trip.

    I finally got on the board with a big bocipenda that hesitated one second too long. I love to hunt these fish because they are powerful and have delicious white meat.   We found a huge rock with a perfect pargo condo beneath it, on a white sand bed. It was loaded with pargo but it was perfect cover, and if your fish got in that hole it would be lost. Michelle hid outside one entrance and she so startled a fish as he left the condo, he gave her a total broadside, and she took the shot. BAM!  She drilled him in the head and stoned him dead. Two nice pargo for Tim and Michelle, and not one lost spear. Awesome! We saw some even bigger fish beneath the rock and hopefully we will have another chance next trip.

    The final day we did a 5 AM wake up, gassed the panga and sent the slow, roach coach mother ship on her way to port which was a 12 hour run. Tim wanted to do a wahoo check, even though dry season was here and the fish had probably gone. Michelle had shot enough wahoo and decided to take the small gun and hunt tiny, tasty pompano for dinner while Tim and I moved into deeper water with the flasher. There were just a few stragglers left, and Tim got some long shots with his big gun and 3/8 shaft, but they were overkill for wahoo. We decided that next time, a smaller, lighter gun and faster shaft, with a small buoy, would work better for wahoo. Michelle had more success and put three pompano in the cooler for our dinner.

    Last stop on the way home was a small high spot coming up to about 50 feet but it was very hard to hit in the ripping current. Tim had only one chance, one pass, as we were already running late and we were still hours from port.  He dropped down to about 40 feet and at first saw nothing as he was carried along by the current. Then suddenly the top of the rock came into view and as it he approached it, he could see it was covered with pargo. As he flew past the rock, one surprised fish turned to stare and Tim fired his cannon. With these fish, a heavy shaft works great and he hit the fish and penetrated the head where another shaft might have glanced off. Tim surfaced and called for help but the shot had demolished the fish and he had it under control. Everything had worked perfectly on his one pass, and Tim was happy with his second big pargo of the trip. He gave it to the driver who was also happy because there are always buyers at the dock or hungry mouths at home.

    On the long drive home we stopped at a restaurant and asked them to cook up the three small pompano that Michelle had shot for our dinner. It was good but I have to admit the roach coach cuisine was even better. Mary Belle could jam on her one burner, frying up our fish to perfection. The staterooms were not 5 star but the pool was endless.

Yesterday as Michelle and I watched a cruise ship go past in the canal, I thought, at my age, maybe I should be thinking about cruise ships. Then I asked Michelle —  For your next trip, which boat would you rather take——A Princess Cruise to Mexico—————- OR———————“ The Roach Coach to Robalo????? 

                              How About You?

Dix and Michelle Roper       January 3, 2010       .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)